


Prerecognition

by lasergirl



Series: Power Generation [2]
Category: Forrest Gump - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Power Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasergirl/pseuds/lasergirl





	Prerecognition

_**Forrest Gump PG verse: Prerecognition**_  
**Title:** Prerecognition  
**Fandom:** Forrest Gump (Power Generation-verse)  
**Rating:** Mature (some swearing)  
**Notes:** Written for the now-annual [](http://community.livejournal.com/powergeneration/profile)[**powergeneration**](http://community.livejournal.com/powergeneration/) ficathon, from a prompt posted by [](http://hannahrorlove.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hannahrorlove.livejournal.com/)**hannahrorlove**. In terms of powers, Lt. Dan Taylor is a situational precog.

  
The prompt:  


**

He never knew when things would hit him out of nowhere. It could be as easy as opening a door, and - flash - there'd be some funny taste in his mouth, or a lurking headache, or the distinct impression of a weight pressing down on him. It never meant anything, as far as he could tell. Like looking in a mirror in a darkened room, he was never sure what he was seeing, or what was behind him.

He got a thrill when he landed in Seoul, though, through the soles of his feet and straight up his spine, a spear that took his breath away for long enough that he had black spots on his eyesight and a lump in his throat. He felt out of time, lost in space, with the swirl of something around him that he couldn't touch, but knew something was there. A pain started deep down and crept up to his knees, and when he tried to blink the blackness away, the spots merged into a shape.

There was a roaring in his ears that wasn't the rotor wash of the Huey. It sounded half like gunfire, half like the pounding of a panicked heartbeat. The black shape reached out for him, trailing strands of bandages from its arms.

And in that flash, it was over, and he was stumbling to the barracks lugging his duffel bag, and the guy behind him was cussing at the heat and his slowness, and;

"Christ, Lt. Taylor, get a fucking move on!"  


Questions? Comments? Feedback always appreciated.


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